She glanced down at her list and said, “Mistletoe?” before she thought better of it.
He reeled back. “Excuse me?”
She wanted to dive behind the cheese counter and stay there. “I forgot to hang some this year, and it’s the last thing on my list.” She held up her shopping list for him to see. She had oodles of mistletoe in her store, but she didn’t want to go back on her night off and pick some up.
“Oh. Well. I guess we can find some.” He glanced around as if the mistletoe should be in with the bananas.
She pointed to the front of the store. “They usually have it up front. But if you don’t find some, don’t worry about it.” She waved a hand as if it wasn’t a big deal.
“And solidify my reputation as a Grinch. Not going to happen,” he deadpanned.
Was he serious? Or flirting? She couldn’t tell, so she didn’t flirt back. All around them, shoppers were back to buying grapes and eggplant. When had they started moving again? For a few minutes, her whole world was Lizzie and Micah.
He tucked his hands in his pockets and studied the flooring. “Okay then. I guess I’ll go.”
He’d been flirting, and she missed it! “Uh. Yeah. Bye.” She was so out of practice. As soon as he was around the corner, she dialed her mom.
Michelle Morris was beautiful, stylish, and organized. She’d been through it the last couple of years, with Dad’s cancer, a long goodbye, and burial. Not to mention adding a daughter-in-law to the family and taking large family vacations with her children and grandchildren. One night, she’d told Charlotte that life liked to throw equal parts joy and sorrow at her. Charlotte hoped that there would be more joyful parts in the years to come.
“Mom, I need that cookie recipe.”
“Which one, dear?”
Charlotte turned her cart toward the baking aisle. “The one we made every year when I was little.”
“Oh, Aunt Larain’s Sugar Cookies. Hold on a second while I grab it for you.”
“Just send me a picture,” she said before Mom could read off the ingredients as if Charlotte had a pen and paper ready. Her mind drifted back to the years she’d spent at the counter with Mom and Dad, rolling dough and then frosting together.
“Do you remember when I dropped the sprinkles in the batter?” Charlotte asked. She could practically smell the cookies baking.
Pages flipped in the background. “That was the most interesting batch we ever made. And we made some pretty good cookies over the years.”
“That we did.” Charlotte stooped down and grabbed a container of red, white, and green sprinkles. She’d thought she’d found the perfect Christmas cookie–soft and chewy with all the holiday colors she loved mixed in. Her older sisters thought they were ruined and cried. Mom promised they would turn out decent–but they were better than that.
“That was also the year you were the angel in the school pageant,” Mom said. Her phone made the shutter clicking sound, and a moment later, the recipe appeared on Charlotte’s screen.
Charlotte’s face heated at the memory. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about that–ever.” She started tossing ingredients into her cart.
Mom laughed. “It was so long ago–and you were the only angel to actually take flight.”
“I scared the custodian to death. Poor Mr. Gilbert retired the next year with a bad heart.” She blanched at how much Crisco cost these days, but picked up a tub of it, anyway.
“That wasn’t your fault. He smeared lard on his toast in the mornings.”
Charlotte made a face. “Lard? For real?” She reconsidered the Crisco.
In her mind, she could see Mom nodding; her lips pursed shut. “And then dipped it in sugar. It was an old timer thing that the miners used to do. His grandfather raised him, you know.”
“I had no idea.” Charlotte couldn’t see a better alternative, so she kept the Crisco and moved on.
“That was one of your father’s favorite stories to tell.” Mom sighed, though it was a contented sound. “He loved it when you kids got snowed in, and they canceled school, and we spent the day playing in the snow and taking a nap in front of the fireplace.”
Charlotte couldn’t think of a more perfect way to spend any day of the year. “We loved being with you guys. It was a charmed way to grow up–having two parents who wanted to be with us.”
“For us too–I’ll tell you a secret.”
Charlotte repositioned the phone so that she could hear better. “Okay.”
